Promise Me Your Heart
by SolarRose29
Summary: What if Mordred hadn't shown up and Arthur did lose his arm? 05x09 'All My Heart' AU


Going through old fics and found this on. It picks up right in the middle of 05x09 'With All my Heart' - any recognizable dialogue comes from the episode.  
Medical and historical accuracy is suspended for the sake of the story ;)

* * *

Arthur broke the silence first. "These funny feelings of yours.."

"They're not funny," Merlin interrupted.

"Stupid then," Arthur corrected. "Where do they come from, you think?" he wondered.

Panting heavily, Merlin readjusted the saddlebags, satchels and sacks he was loaded down with.

"You still there, Merlin?" Arthur asked. "Don't tell me you've gone into a sulk."

"I'm not sulking. I'm carrying a load even a horse would struggle under," Merlin defended.

"Do you good," Arthur said, off-hand.

"How come it wouldn't do you good?" Merlin retorted.

With a slight shrug, Arthur said, "I'm already good."

"Well, maybe I-"

When Merlin cut off abruptly, Arthur paused. "Merlin?" He turned around, only to find the trail empty behind him. "Merlin?!" Carefully, he laid Gwen down and ran to the edge of the path. He peered over the lip of the valley and saw Merlin sprawled, unmoving, on the rocks below. His call for his servant got no response and after quickly scanning for a better way down, Arthur lowered himself over the edge. Craning to look over his shoulder, he searched for his next foothold. But his hand slipped, and he slid down the rock face. A number of rocks fell with him, bouncing along the wall of the gulley. He hit a jutting platform of stone, body spinning uncontrollably. The rest of his descent was a disorderly tumble that ended with him striking his head on the ground and losing consciousness.

He roused slowly, awareness gradually brushing away the traces of sleep. Blinking the dust from his eyes, he glanced around, taking in the fact that he was on his back in the bottom of the ravine. It was then that he noticed the boulder that was pinning his left arm. He immediately pushed himself up as far as he was able and attempted to get free. But the rock wouldn't budge. Realizing that he was helpless to move it on his own, he turned to Merlin.

"Merlin." Stretching as far as he could, he managed to nudge the heel of his boot into his servant's side. "Merlin!"

When there was no indication that Merlin had even heard him, Arthur returned to his task. Gathering his strength, he shuffled until he was in a position more conducive to his attempt to liberate his arm. He tried yanking it out from the immobilizing rubble. Grunting with the effort, he strained every muscle in his body. Unsuccessful, he gave a wordless cry of frustration. Unwilling to admit defeat, he drew his sword from his belt, setting it to the side, out of his way as he shifted again. He maneuvered until he was lying perpendicular to the rock, then reached over and shoved at it with all his might. Growling in frustration, he slammed his fist down on the ground. Hoping to find something to assist him, he scanned his surroundings. Aside from tufts of dried grass, bits of shale and scattered rocks, the only thing in his vicinity was his manservant, who had yet to stir.

"Come on, Merlin, wake up." He kicked him again. "Merlin!"

The wind kissed Merlin's pale cheeks, blew over his closed eyelids.

"Merlin, you have to wake up," Arthur urged. "The tincture is going to wear off soon. Guinevere is up there by herself, and who knows what she'll do when she comes around."

Merlin did not wake up.

"I'm a little stuck at the moment. This rock..." Arthur bit his bottom lip and averted his eyes, choosing to direct his gaze at the sky. "I can't move it. I need your help," he hesitantly admitted.

Merlin remained silent and motionless. Concern rising at the other man's lack of animation, Arthur tugged forcefully on his arm. Sweat rolled down his face, falling between his armor and his skin. The veins along his neck and forehead bulged from the strain. But he was still trapped. He slumped against the stone beneath him, regaining his strength.

"We are running out of time." He spoke as if Merlin could hear him. "If we don't get back up there, Guinevere will wake and without us to stop her, she'll flee and we won't have this opportunity again." He swallowed hard before adding, "I'll lose my wife for good."

Sobered by the thought, he tried once more, putting all his weight behind his next attempt. The rock stayed in place, his arm beneath it. While squirming into a new position from which to try to get free, his leg knocked into his sword. The weapon scraped across the rock with a harsh grating sound and a horrible idea came to Arthur.

"Merlin, I know you never listen to me," he began, reaching for his sword. "But I'd appreciate it if you would, just this once." He glanced at his servant. "If you don't wake up right now, I'm going to do something incredibly stupid."

Like the rock, Merlin was impervious to all of Arthur's attempts to change him. The king set his jaw.

"Alright. If that's how you want it." Arthur's fingers curled around the hilt of his sword and he brought it to his chest. "Last chance to save me from my own stupidity."

There was no response from Merlin.

"Right then. Here it goes." Arthur took a deep breath and slowly pulled up the sleeve of his hauberk, exposing his left arm. Heart thundering painfully against his ribs, he looked to Merlin one last time. Then, panting heavily, he reared back his arm. The sun caught the blade, setting it afire for a moment before Arthur brought the sword down on his pinned arm. He screamed as it cut into him but he pulled it back for another swing. Relentlessly, he hacked away at his arm until his sword clanged against stone instead of flesh. Involuntary tears slid down his cheeks, his breaths sharp gasps. As the blood gushed from his arm, he rolled away, free at last.

Too dizzy to stand, he crawled over to Merlin. Clutching the stump of his arm, he scanned his servant with his eyes. There were no visible injuries, which was a relief to Arthur. He released his arm in order to grab one of the saddlebags. He clumsily sorted through the it one-handed until he found a water skin, which he struggled to open with a single hand. Finally, he used his teeth to pull the cork out. He leaned forward and dribbled it over Merlin's face. Some water got into the servant's mouth and Merlin woke coughing and sputtering. He blinked at Arthur uncomprehendingly. Then he noticed the absence of Arthur's left arm.

He jolted up in shock. "What have you done?"

"You wouldn't wake up," Arthur murmured, swaying.

"What have you done, Arthur?" Merlin repeated, horrified.

Nearly tipping over as he did so, Arthur reached into the bag once more and pulled out the bottle from Gaius. "Here. you need to get to Guinevere. She needs another dose."

"No." Merlin shoved it away. "I need to tend to you."

"Merlin, please, you don't have time," Arthur protested, retrieving the bottle.

Merlin averted his gaze, looking past Arthur. That was how he caught sight of the severed arm stuck under the rock. Instantly, nausea overcame him and he twisted to the side to vomit. Arthur collapsed, too weak to hold himself up any longer.

"Go, Merlin," he gasped.

Grimacing, Merlin wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and forced himself to focus. He tore a piece from the bottom of his shirt and pulled Arthur upright. The blood was everywhere and Merlin fought against his instinctual urge to vomit again. Carefully, he tied the cloth against the stump of Arthur's arm. The material was immediately soaked crimson. Merlin swallowed bile. He knew if the bleeding didn't stop, Arthur would die. He glanced at the king's face, noting the slick sheen of sweat over the pasty complexion. Arthur's eyes were rolling back, the whites showing beneath his fluttering lids. Quickly, Merlin muttered a spell. The magic did its work, sealing Arthur's wound. The healing seemed to revitalize the monarch. Arthur stirred, pushing the bottle back into Merlin's hands.

"Leave me, Merlin," Arthur panted. "Take care of Guinevere. That's an order."

"You know I never listen to you," Merlin rehearsed their old joke, though there was no humor in his voice this time.

"I can't lose her," Arthur pleaded. "I can't live without her."

Critically examining the amount of blood spilled on the ground, Merlin muttered, "I don't know if you'll live at all."

"Go now," Arthur commanded, voice more breath than words.

"Not without you," Merlin declared, bending down to help Arthur up.

Arthur lurched away. "I'll only slow you down. You must hurry."

"No!"

"I'll be right behind you," Arthur promised, shoving weakly at Merlin's reaching hands.

Merlin opened his mouth. "But-"

"Merlin." Despite the weakness in his body, the blood staining his mail, and the paleness of his skin, Arthur's eyes flashed, determination and entreaty equally fierce.

After living with the man for years, Merlin could recognize when Arthur was adamant about a subject. When Arthur felt so convicted about something, there was no one in the world who could persuade him to change his mind. Not even Merlin. Reluctantly, with only his healing spell as assurance that Arthur wouldn't die in his absence, Merlin straightened and hesitantly moved to the wall of rock. He glanced over his shoulder and Arthur gave him a firm nod.

Grumbling in his mind about idiotic and self-sacrificing kings who made it incredibly difficult for their destiny-appointed guardians to keep them safe, Merlin forced himself to leave Arthur behind and scale the rock face. Despite his resolve not to, Merlin couldn't help but glance backward every now and then. The scenery never changed. Arthur was always propped up against a pile of rocks, watching him with a dull gaze. Finally, Merlin made it to the top. As he was pulling himself over the edge, a branch hit him across the temple. He lost his balance and dropped a few inches until his boots found purchase on a small outcropping. His hands were quick to find anchors and he pushed himself up just in time to see Guinevere drop the branch and sprint in the opposite direction. Her steps were unsteady, but she had a head start. Merlin got to his feet and put out his hand, intent on using magic to trip her up.

Before he had the chance, a dragon's screech filled the air and Merlin's head whipped up. Aithusa swooped down, a thin jet of fire racing from its mouth. Rolling to the side, Merlin avoided the inferno. He took shelter behind a heap of rocks, only peeking out to watch the beast wheel through the sky, coming back at him. The presence of the beast could only mean that Morgana had somehow learned of their plans and had followed them to the Cauldron. Temper rising at the thought, Merlin came out from his meager protection and stepped fully into the path, exposing himself to the white dragon, which now arched toward him. Full of confidence and wrath, Merlin marched to meet it. His lips instinctually formed the words of the ancient language as the power surged in his veins. Voice rising, Merlin commanded the beast to turn away. Aithusa submitted to the dragonlord, stopping short before changing direction and fleeing.

Not content with the single victory, Merlin swept the landscape with a penetrating stare. There, on a distant hill, he spied a cloaked figure. He knew it was Morgana. Without a trace of hesitancy or remorse, Merlin flicked his eyes, calling on his magic to topple the rocks at the top of the hill. The released boulders crashed into others, which knocked into their neighbors, until the whole ridge was shaking in the rock slide. The dust billowed in a gray cloud and Merlin nodded sharply once.

A flash of blue further down the path drew his attention back to Guinevere. While Merlin had been distracted with Aithusa and Morgana, she had made much progress. Setting his jaw, Merlin sent out a blast of magic, which knocked the queen off her feet. As she got up again, Merlin sprinted toward her.

"Gwen!" he called.

She looked over her shoulder and frowned before gathering her skirts and running again.

"Gwen, stop!" Merlin shouted, his steps eating the distance between them.

Still weakened from the sedative, Guinevere was uncoordinated and unable to outpace him. He soon overtook her, grabbing her arm. The sudden halt took her by surprise and she lost her balance, tipping over and hitting her head on the ground. For one horrible moment, Merlin was certain she was dead. Then her chest rose and fell with her slumbering breaths, and Merlin nearly fainted with relief. Unwilling to waste any more time, he gathered the unconscious lady into his arms and began the trek back to where he'd left Arthur. And although Guinevere was by no means a large woman, Merlin still wondered at how Arthur had carried her all this way.

When he reached the spot, he gently laid Guinevere down and went to the edge. He was surprised to see Arthur struggling to climb up, and even more shocked to find that the king had somehow managed to make it halfway there. Shaking his head at how Arthur never ceased to amaze him, Merlin dropped to his belly and inched forward until his hand reached far enough to touch what remained of Arthur's arm. Arthur startled at the contact, focused as he was on his task.

"How did you get all the way up here?" Merlin questioned, wrapping his fingers around Arthur's bicep and tugging him upward.

Arthur accepted the assistance, allowing his servant to help him to the top. "I told you I'd be right behind you," he grinned, panting with exertion.

Exasperated, Merlin shook his head again and hauled Arthur onto the higher ground. Arthur lay for a moment, catching his breath. When he was ready to stand, Merlin stuck out a hand, which Arthur gratefully took, and together they got him upright. Immediately, he went to Guinevere, looking her over. He frowned at the bump on her head.

"What happened?"

Merlin considered lying but decided on honesty. "She was running away. I tried to stop her and she fell and hit her head."

Arthur glared at him.

"At least it's better than another draught of belladonna," Merlin shrugged.

"I'm not sure which is worse," Arthur muttered, tenderly brushing his thumb over the bruise forming on his wife's forehead.

Merlin glanced away, feeling like an intruder. "We should camp here for the night," he quietly advised.

"No." Arthur straightened.

Glancing sharply at him, Merlin asked, "Why not? It's going to be dark soon."

"You said we weren't far from the Cauldron," Arthur reminded.

"Yes, but-" Merlin started.

"I'm not leaving her like this for a moment longer than I have to," Arthur interrupted.

Merlin found himself once again in the position of being the voice of reason in the face of Arthur's passionate convictions. "You need to rest."

"I need Gwen back," Arthur snapped.

"You can't even carry her," Merlin pointed out, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Arthur's face smoothed into an expressionless mask, the one Merlin had seen far too often whenever Agravaine had pushed him into doing something painful.

"Arthur…" Merlin tried.

"You'll do it," Arthur ordered, features blank and voice flat.

Merlin's eyes widened. Arthur turned away.

"What about our supplies?" Merlin stammered, fingering the single bag hanging from his belt that contained his disguise.

"We'll have to leave them behind," Arthur stated, starting down the path.

"But you need water. Lots of water, after all that blood you lost," Merlin implored.

Arthur's right shoulder hitched in a shrug. "We don't have time to climb down and get them. Besides, we're heading to a lake, right? I'll just get a drink there."

"You can't. It's sacred," Merlin protested.

Arthur whirled on him. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

Merlin shifted his weight. "Just because the Old Religion is no longer practised, that doesn't mean that they were wrong."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur growled, spinning around to face front.

Stung, Merlin silently gathered Guinevere into his arms and followed Arthur's stumbling steps. The king did look back over his shoulder once, but only to make sure his servant was holding Guinevere correctly. As the afternoon deepened, Arthur's pace slowed considerably. He tripped and Merlin was helpless to stop him. Arthur automatically put out his arms to break his fall. He choked back a scream when the stump of his left arm collided with the ground and was scraped forward with the momentum of his fall. Fresh blood welled to the surface and he clutched the limb to his chest. Merlin set Guinevere aside, his shoulders and back sighing in relief, and raced to his sovereign's aid. He picked up Arthur's damaged limb, hissing in sympathy at the sight of the freshly opened wound. Quickly, he tore another strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped Arthur's arm. Arthur wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Not much farther now," Merlin murmured.

A negligible twitch of the head was Arthur's way of acknowledging his statement. Wishing desperately for some water to give the king, Merlin had to settle for merely binding the injury. When Arthur didn't immediately resume walking, Merlin gratefully took the opportunity to rest. He flopped onto the ground, rolling his shoulders to release the tension brought by carrying the queen for a number of miles. He absently fingered his bag and was surprised to feel a bulky object among the fabric. After checking to make sure Arthur wasn't watching him, he dug through the bag to find the strange thing. He pulled it out and huffed a surprised laugh at the water skin in his hand. He couldn't remember when he had put it in there, but he was infinitely relieved he had. Without wasting a moment, he scrambled over to Arthur.

"Here." He thrust the water at the king. "Drink."

Arthur blinked at him, brows drawing together in confusion.

"You'll feel better afterwards," Merlin promised. "We can't have you dying of dehydration now, can we?"

He prompted Arthur to take the skin in his hand and lift it to his mouth. The knight's grip was loose at first but as soon as the first drops of water hit his tongue, he tightened his hold, guzzling the liquid so fast he nearly choked on it.

"Careful," Merlin reminded.

Heeding the advice, Arthur drank a few more mouthfuls slowly before holding the skin out to Merlin. "You need to drink as well."

Merlin started to shake his head.

"Merlin, if you don't drink some water right now, you're going to be too weak to carry Guinevere. And if you drop her, I will kill you."

Arthur's threat forced Merlin to take the proffered water. Thirst quenched, the king deemed himself refreshed enough to resume their journey. Merlin proposed once more that they settle for the coming night. Arthur refused and, to prove he was able to continue on, hauled himself upright. Sighing at his companion's stubbornness, Merlin collected Guinevere and trailed behind Arthur.

The sun was nearing the horizon by the time the barren landscape gave way to a lake ringed by mountains, standing as sentinels over the pool. Despite the waning light, the water was a beautiful turquoise and smooth as crystal. There was a stillness in the air, a hushed reverence. Merlin could feel the ancient power contained in the area, nestled in the very earth beneath his feet.

"It's as Gaius described it," he murmured. "The Cauldron of Arianrhod."

He laid Guinevere by the lakeside, massaging his sore muscles after. Arthur sunk onto a rock beside his wife, glancing around expectantly. "Where's the sorceress?"

Merlin shrugged. "Gaius says she's a recluse," he offered. "She shuns the company of men."

"She's going to have to make an exception," Arthur stated, leaning over to check on the queen. "We haven't got much time. Guinevere could wake up at any moment."

"Too bad we lost the tincture," Merlin lamented.

"It doesn't matter. I wouldn't have risked it," Arthur retorted. He scanned their surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive magician. "We have to find her."

"I'll search her out," Merlin volunteered, fingering the bag strapped to his belt.

Arthur nodded his agreement and Merlin scampered off to find suitable cover to change into his disguise. A nearby dip in the landscape was the perfect spot and Merlin wasted no time pulling out his preselected dress. As he fought his way into the garment, he shifted his focus from his doubts and second thoughts to ways he could get back at Gaius for putting him in such a ridiculous situation in the first place. After several failed attempts, he managed to navigate his body into the robe. Once he was dressed, he recited the correct incantation and felt the immediate effects. His health deteriorated, skin wrinkling and bones aching, in a matter of seconds. Fully transformed, he hobbled back to where Arthur waited.

As he approached, Arthur unsheathed his sword and held it in a trembling hand, pointed directly at the coming sorceress.

"Put that away, young man," Merlin commanded, pitching his voice high. "There is no need for weapons in this sacred place."

Cautious, Arthur lowered the blade but did not return it to his belt. "Are you the Dolma? Ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?"

Merlin spread his arms in acknowledgment. "Who else would I be?"

Arthur raised a skeptical eyebrow before his expression darkened. "Where's Merlin?"

Lowering his chin, Merlin remained silent.

"What have you done with my servant?" Arthur growled.

"Oh. The gangly boy," Merlin dismissed haughtily.

"I swear if you've harmed him…" Arthur lifted his sword higher.

"Of course now you show concern for him. When he isn't here to appreciate it," Merlin complained.

Arthur's frown deepened.

"I am an old woman. Is it not natural that I seek some surety?" Merlin quickly thought up a reason. "The boy will be returned to you when we have concluded our business."

"You know why we're here," Arthur observed.

"Nothing is hidden from The Dolma." Merlin raised his chin in superiority. "We must hurry. Before your queen awakes."

He shuffled over to the place where Guinevere lay and then knelt to examine her. Passing a hand over her body, he probed her inner being with his magic, cringing at the twisted roots of evil he could feel wrapped around her kind heart.

"Great king, the magic which has ensnared your queen is strong indeed," he said. At Arthur's concerned look, he added, "It can be fought. It can be broken but it also may prevail. Do you understand this?"

"I do." Arthur nodded.

"What we attempt will not be easy. If we fail, your queen will be lost forever," Merlin warned.

"I understand," Arthur said.

"Very well. When I awake Guinevere from her sleep, she must walk into the Cauldron of Arianrhod of her own will. Only then will the spell be broken," Merlin explained. "But be warned. All the magic that binds her will fight against it."

Arthur's expression was doubtful. "How then can we succeed?"

"You must reach her, Arthur," Merlin stated, rising to stand. "Reach that part of your queen that has remained untouched by the evil of Morgana."

"Is there such a part?" Arthur asked, searching for reassurance.

"You must believe there is," Merlin said, convicted. He looked down at Guinevere. "Prepare."

Arthur pushed himself into a standing position..

"When she wakes, you will have but a few moments," Merlin cautioned, kneeling again.

Shifting anxiously, Arthur watched his every move closely. Inhaling deeply, Merlin recited the spell and then stepped back. Arthur glanced at him before moving closer to his wife.

Guinevere's lashes fluttered, the eyes beneath drifting listlessly until they focused on her surroundings. Instantly, she sat up. "Where am I? What have you done to me?"

"You've been asleep for a long time," Arthur explained, voice quiet and calming.

She stood up and made to move past him.

"Guinevere-" Arthur caught her arm.

"Get away from me!" she cried.

"My Guinevere." Arthur spun her around to face him.

"Your Guinevere?" She struggled against him. "You stupid, foolish man. I was never yours and never will be," she spat in his face.

"You must reach her, Arthur," Merlin urged. "Reach out or all is lost."

"Who's this old crone?" Guinevere queried angrily, backing out of Arthur's hold.

Arthur tightened his grip, halting her retreating motion. "You loved me once."

"You're easily fooled, Arthur," Guinevere interrupted spitefully.

Ignoring her comment, Arthur continued, "And still do."

"It was a trick," Guinevere insisted. "Nothing more. A subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful queen."

"I don't believe that," Arthur stated, taking a step backward and pulling her along with him.

"Believe what you like, the fact remains," Guinevere taunted.

Arthur dragged her another step closer to the lake and she whimpered.

"No, it must be of her own will," Merlin reminded urgently.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder at him, expression desperate. Then he gathered himself and faced Guinevere. He caught both her hands in his single one and tugged her toward him. "Look at me. Tell me you don't love me," he challenged.

"Let me go," Guinevere demanded.

"Arthur," Merlin pushed, nervously watching the exchange.

Guinevere wriggled in the king's grip, eyes angry and mouth panting.

"Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" Arthur asked. "Do you remember what you said?"

Her struggles lessened as she stared at him suspiciously.

"You said 'With all my heart.' That's what you said Guinevere," Arthur reminded, tone earnest and expression sincere. "There was no subterfuge. No trickery."

Gwen froze, staring at him. Silently, Arthur dropped her hands and took a step away.

"With all my heart," Arthur repeated, backing into the water. "With all my heart. I love you, Guinevere, more than life itself." He gestured to the stump of his left arm. "I gave up my arm to save you and I'd gladly lose the other one too if it meant getting you back."

Guinevere gasped, fighting within herself. Merlin watched her carefully, seeing the different expressions flicker across her face as her true feelings battled against Morgana's enchantment. Finally, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

"With all my heart," she echoed in a whisper, her reason returning to her.

When Arthur held out his remaining hand in an invitation, she slowly walked forward to meet him, more tears pooling in her eyes. She placed her fingers in his palm and he guided her into the water. Merlin performed the spell as she moved deeper into the lake. As the magic took effect, it enveloped her in a glowing light, purging her of Morgana's wickedness. She turned to her companions and Arthur waited breathless to see if their quest was successful. The smile that graced her lips was proof she was once again the sweet, wise woman he had fallen in love with, and when she beckoned to him, he gladly went to her. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. Holding her close, he kissed her temple as they clung to each other. On the bank, Merlin grinned, relieved.

After some time, the two royals climbed out of the lake and stood together to address the magician. Arthur's good arm was snug around Guinevere's shoulders and her arm was snaked around his back.

"I owe you a great debt," Arthur announced. "We both do. If there's ever anything I can do in return-" he offered.

"There is one thing," Merlin decided.

"Name it," Arthur said.

Merlin raised his chin. "Remember what saved your queen. Magic and sorcery."

"It was also sorcery that bewitched her," Arthur pointed out.

"There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men," Merlin argued. "My request is that you remember this."

For a moment, Arthur was silent, considering. Then he vowed, "You have my word."

Merlin tipped his head and Arthur turned away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Merlin called after him, planting his hands on his hips.

Arthur spun around, checking first for Guinevere and then his sword. "I don't think so."

Merlin sighed. "The boy?" he reminded.

"Ah," Arthur said. "I thought everything had gone unusually smoothly."

"That boy was your surety, great king. Without him, your queen would still be lost," Merlin snapped.

Arthur wrinkled his nose. "I'm not sure that's quite true."

"And I say it is!" Merlin declared. He drew closer to Arthur. "You owe him a greater debt than you can possibly know."

Revulsion and incredulity both found place in the king's expression. "Right. I'm sorry. I'll...give him the afternoon off," he proposed flippantly.

Merlin ground his teeth. "One day, great king, you will recognize the true worth of those that surround you," he promised cryptically.

Arthur's brows furrowed.

"Go," Merlin dismissed.

With a final parting wave, Arthur guided Guinevere down the path. Once they were out of sight, Merlin rushed back to his hiding place to transform his appearance and change his clothes. He stuffed the itchy dress back into the bag and ran to intercept his master.

"Oh. There you are, Merlin," Arthur greeted when Merlin tripped on a loose stone and fell in front of him. "Where have you been?"

"The Dolma had me," Merlin said.

Arthur snickered. "You were held prisoner by an old woman."

"She had magic," Merlin defended.

Guinevere grinned and Merlin turned his attention to her. "Gwen! It worked?"

"Yes," she affirmed. "And I understand I have you to thank for it."

Merlin blushed, a pleased smile curling his lips.

"Him?" Arthur questioned incredulously. "He did about as much as a horse."

Merlin grimaced. Guinevere smacked Arthur's chest. "Arthur."

Arthur stumbled slightly and his friends became concerned.

"Arthur?" Guinevere said.

"I'm fine," Arthur deflected, missing another step.

Merlin steadied him and then steered him into a sitting position on a nearby rock. He retrieved the water skin from his bag and passed it the king. "Here, have some water."

Blinking uncomprehendingly at his servant, Arthur wobbled on his perch.

"Merlin? What's wrong with him?" Guinevere asked, brushing strands of hair from Arthur's pale forehead.

"He lost a lot of blood," Merlin summarized. Following Gaius' teachings, he took Arthur's wrist to measure his pulse. The heartbeat beneath his fingers, though rapid, was weak. Unhappy with his discovery, Merlin frowned. "He needs water and rest." As Guinevere nodded, Merlin added, "We should set up camp for the night."

"We're going to need a fire. And some food," Guinevere noted.

"I'll gather some wood," Merlin volunteered. "But I don't know that there's much to eat in these parts, aside from dried grass." He nudged a knot of said vegetation with the toe of his boot.

Guinevere grimaced. "I suppose we'll have to go hungry then. How far are we from Camelot?"

Merlin looked away.

"Merlin?" Guinevere prompted.

Without meeting her gaze, Merlin answered, "Three days."

"That's not so bad." Guinevere smiled.

"Three days by horse," Merlin corrected, glum.

The smile fell from the queen's face. "Oh. I see."

"We did leave the horses at the bottom of the mountain," Merlin offered. "And we passed through a village not too far from that."

"Will Arthur last until then?" Guinevere asked, picking up her husband's single hand.

"I can hear you," Arthur murmured. Sitting up straighter, he reassured, "You won't be losing me anytime soon."

Merlin managed to push his mouth up into a lopsided smirk. "I guess that's the one good thing to come out of you being such an arrogant, stubborn cabbage head."

"Merlin!" Arthur automatically searched for an object to throw at his servant.

"I've got to get the firewood," Merlin excused himself, scampering off into the rocks.

Arthur chuckled fondly, watching him go.

"So what really happened?" Guinevere questioned, timidly skating a touch to Arthur's left bicep.

The levity of the moment faded and Arthur's face grew serious. "Nothing."

"Arthur," Guinevere pushed.

"I did what I had to do," Arthur stated. Guinevere opened her mouth and he put a finger to her lips. "I do not regret my actions."

She sighed, the tense line of her shoulders slackening, and she took a seat beside him, running her hand through his hair at a soothing tempo.

Closing his eyes, Arthur leaned back into her caress, his body relaxing at her touch. "I am glad to have you back, Guinevere."

Unable to decide on the words to say, Guinevere remained quiet. Arthur cracked an eye open to look at her. When he saw her distress, he tilted his head and then surprised her with an unexpected kiss. It was a sign of love and forgiveness, and it warmed her, bringing her a contentment and peace she hadn't felt since before her captivity.

Night had already fallen when Merlin rejoined them. Guinevere had Arthur laid out flat on the ground, as he had grown too weak to stay seated. Merlin was quick to pile the branches he'd gathered, and seeing that Guinevere was busy with the slumbering Arthur, lit them with a whispered word. The flames eagerly jumped into existence, leaping and dancing among the twigs. Wrapping an arm around his empty stomach, Merlin settled himself cross-legged on the other side of the fire from the royals. Guinevere gave him a wordless smile, grateful for the warmth. Merlin nodded at her. Then his eyes drifted to Arthur and he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from the stump of his left arm. The bandage hastily tied around the end was crusted over with dried blood, the vacant space beneath it disconcerting.

Guilt bubbled in Merlin's head, filling his thoughts. If only he hadn't slipped on that ridge. If only he had woken sooner. If only he had been quicker in rescuing Gwen from the Dark Tower. If only he had killed Morgana when he'd had the chance all those years ago. So many possibilities, so many missed opportunities. So many mistakes. And Arthur had to pay the price. Merlin clenched his jaw.

Eventually, Guinevere tired and lay down at her husband's right side. Even in sleep, Arthur still reached out to protect her, his arm circling her shoulders. She shuffled closer, putting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. By the light of the fire, Merlin watched for the telltale sign that she had finally fallen asleep. As soon as her breathing evened out, he rose and left the campsite. He strode purposefully through the night, steps never faltering in the dark. When he had gone a sufficient distance, he threw his head back and roared his summoning spell at the stars. He waited impatiently until the beat of wings echoed through the valley. The great dragon alighted in front of him, folding his magnificent wings against his body.

"I am not a dog to be called whenever it pleases you," Kilgharrah growled. "What is it this time, young warlock?"

Merlin craned his neck up at the beast. "Arthur's lost his arm."

"Lost it?" the dragon prompted.

"Cut it off himself," Merlin confirmed miserably.

"That is why you have summoned me?" Kilgharrah snorted. "It is no concern of mine whether the king is a cripple or not. You have wasted my time." He unfurled his wings, muscles coiled to launch into the air.

"I did not say you could leave!" Merlin snarled.

There was a rumble of displeasure from the dragon but he resettled on the ground.

"If it is important to me, it becomes important to you," Merlin stated.

Kilgharrah bared his teeth. "Do not abuse your power, dragonlord. You will not like what follows if you do."

"I can not let Arthur live the rest of his life with only one arm. It's my fault he lost it and I have to fix it," Merlin explained.

"Such a small price to pay for the return of his queen, is it not?" Kilgharrah grinned shrewdly.

Merlin would not be deterred from his original subject. "There must be a way for him to regain it. Some kind of spell to heal him, perhaps."

"Many men go through life with bodies incomplete," Kilgharrah pointed out. "Why should this man receive any different?"

"Because he is a good man who sacrificed himself to save his friends," Merlin responded forcefully.

"That was of his own choosing. This is a trivial matter," Kilgharrah said dismissively. "And not worthy of my time or my power."

"Then I shall make this brief," Merlin snapped. "Is there a way to restore Arthur's arm?"

Kilgharrah sighed. "You will not be persuaded to simply accept things as the way they are?"

Merlin's silence was answer enough.

Kilgharrah relented. "There may be a way."

"Tell me," Merlin immediately ordered.

"You are fortunate that this mishap occurred in this place. For Arthur's only hope lies in the fairy people. They dwell to the west of the Cauldron," Kilgharrah told him. "They will grant a single wish to any mortal who is able to pass their test."

"Then I shall," Merlin declared.

Kilgharrah chuckled. "It is not that simple. The fairies are a devious folk and enjoy watching the struggles of others." He spread his wings. "Good luck, young warlock." He pushed himself up and flew off into the night.

Merlin watched him disappear and then started walking in the direction Kilgharrah had given him. A light breeze brushed through the valley, stirring his hair as he moved. The landscape was empty and silent, no birds overhead, nor insects underfoot. He was alone in the wilderness and as he was beginning to doubt the truth of Kilgharrah's instructions, the rocks in front of him suddenly lit up, exploding in color and motion. Many glowing forms whizzed through the air, zipping close to his head and making him flinch. The hum of wings seemed to make the night itself vibrate.

"It's a boy!"

"What's his name?"

"What's his business?"

"Look at his boots."

"See his eyes?"

"His clothes are so funny."

The voices tumbled into one another, speaking over each other carelessly. A tiny hand snatched a bit of his hair and ripped it from his scalp. He yelped and the cry amused the little creatures.

"Are you the fairies who dwell by the Cauldron of Arianrhod?" Merlin questioned formally, searching for a single one to address.

"We are fairies, aren't we?"

"And we are by the Cauldron, aren't we?"

"So that should answer your question, shouldn't it?"

Merlin fought the urge to swat at the darting balls of light. "I've come to seek help for my friend."

"We don't seek."

"We don't have friends."

"And we never help."

"But you do grant wishes?" Merlin questioned.

"Sometimes."

"Hardly."

"We kill them as often as we give them what they ask for."

Merlin grimaced. "I have been told there is a test."

"An impossible one."

"It's a hopeless cause."

"Turn back now."

"Not without what I came for," Merlin asserted determinedly.

"Brave."

"Foolish."

"Stupid."

"Our favorite kind."

"This way."

The lights formed a sort of line, leading him. He followed and they stopped before a wall of rock. Hewn into the face of it, a set of jagged steps formed a sort of staircase to the top. It was narrow and steep, an imposing sight.

"Here it is."

"You must climb it."

"Without touching the sides."

"If you do, your life is forfeit!"

Swallowing hard, Merlin nodded his consent to the terms, which prompted much twitterings and giggles from his audience, and began his ascent. The steps were shallow. There was not enough room for his entire boot, the heel hanging off the edge. Merlin automatically spread his arms to the side for balance.

"Touch the sides and you die!"

Merlin frowned and continued cautiously. The stairs beneath him were uneven, making it difficult to maintain his equilibrium. He paused halfway to catch his breath, mindful of his hands, not wanting them to accidentally bump the forbidden sides of the rock. Refreshed, he continued on. He was nearly to the top when something slammed into him. His reflexes moved his body before he could and he automatically reached out to steady himself. His audience shrieked in victory, buzzing in a frenzy around him.

"That's not fair!" Merlin protested.

"You failed."

"You failed."

"You die now, oh yes!"

One of the fairies separated from the others, swooping in close to him. Merlin held up a hand palm outward and said a single word to immobilize it. The others froze in shock.

"He has magic."

"He is a sorcerer."

"We did not know."

Merlin glanced at the circle of creatures around him. "They call me Emrys."

The name was repeated by a dozen voices, whispered in awe and reverence, the fairies backing away from him.

"You know me?" he inquired warily.

"The prophecies speak of you."

"Your name is carried on the wind."

"Carved upon the moon."

"Scorched into the earth by the rays of the sun."

Merlin straightened. "Then you know that I will not be denied my wish."

The fairies fluttered, distressed.

"But you did not pass."

"By our laws, we can not grant the wish."

"Unless the cause be justified."

"I ask not for myself but for Arthur, the once and future king," Merlin responded. "He wounded himself to save his queen and myself. I only ask that you restore to him the arm that he lost."

"Many kings have come to us."

"He is like them."

Merlin shook his head. "No. Arthur is different. He is going to bring about a new age in Camelot. One where magic is welcome. We will no longer be hunted. We will be free," he said, convicted.

"You believe this?"

"You are certain of this future?"

Merlin nodded. "Yes."

"Very well."

"Return to your friends."

In the blink of an eye, it all disappeared. The fairies, the stairs, all gone. Merlin found himself on the outskirts of his makeshift camp. He sprinted forward, toward the smoke curling faintly from the dying fire. Scarcely daring to hope for what he'd been promised, he rushed to check Arthur. There, already subconsciously wrapped around his wife, Arthur's left arm was attached to his body. The relief flooded Merlin and he huffed out a quiet laugh. Grateful, he sank down onto the dirt and happily drifted into sleep.

Something nudged his ribs and he shifted himself away from it, snuggling further into the ground. The nudge came again, harder and more insistent. Merlin squirmed out of reach, squeezing his eyes shut against the intrusion. It was still for a moment and he almost dropped back down into the depths of his slumber. But a quick slap to his face jerked him into the real world. He bolted up into a sitting position, blinking dazedly into Arthur's face.

"Good morning, Merlin. Or should I say afternoon," Arthur greeted.

Merlin rubbed his cheek. "Did you hit me?"

"I wouldn't call that a hit. It was more like a gentle tap," Arthur responded with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I can demonstrate a hit, if you would prefer." He raised his hand and Merlin was pleased to see it was his left one.

"You've got your arm back!" He feigned surprise.

Arthur brought the hand in front of him, turning it over and examining it. "Yes, although I don't know how. All I know is when I woke up, it was there."

"So something happened last night," Merlin commented.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You are just full of wonderful observations, aren't you?" He fixed his servant with a stern glare. "And you should know what happened."

Merlin froze.

"After all, you were supposed to be keeping watch," Arthur reminded. "But I suppose that was too difficult for you." His words were stinging but his happiness took the heat from them.

Merlin relaxed. Guinevere walked over to join them and Arthur took her hand, interlocking their fingers. The queen brought their connected hands to her lips, placing a kiss on Arthur's knuckles.

"It's a miracle," she murmured, causing Arthur to smile. "I only wonder how it happened," she added.

"Perhaps it was the Dolma," Merlin suggested.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it. She didn't seem overly fond of me when we parted."

Merlin shrugged innocently. "Magicians can be kind."

"Is it within her power?" Guinevere questioned.

"She is an ancient sorceress," Merlin pointed out. "Who knows what her limits are."

"Regardless of who is responsible, I've got it now," Arthur interrupted. "That's what matters. And I say it is time for us to return to Camelot."

"Indeed." Guinevere smiled.

"Come on, Merlin, it's a long way back to the castle," Arthur called, turning down the path.

Grinning, Merlin shook his head before trotting after the king.


End file.
